To be(d) or not to be(d)

It’s an age old question. How soon is it okay to bed the man you’re dating? Presuming you are not one of those who needs mummy’s permission or are still pretending to play the virginal card (if you are, then please go read Pleasures Of Being An Obedient House Wife Part 1; it’s delightful reading).

We didn’t become the  second most populated country by not having sex. Even the government has given its whole-hearted approval for bedding your man and  ensuring you walk away with the house, the bank account, et al. What else is the ‘living-in’ law all about, if not sanctioning pre-marital sex? So what is it that still makes us girls ponder and hesitate?
Of course, physically we have more at stake because without external aid, nature allows the man to walk away scot free, leaving the woman to deal with the not-always-welcome repercussions.

But we’re not living in the Stone Age and we have aid, of all sorts — condoms, pills, injections, diaphragms, IUDs and new stuff that’s  being invented every day exactly for this purpose so we too can enjoy the consequence of free sex. Yet, for reasons beyond my understanding, we can’t bed a man like a man.

Perhaps, we’re emotionally tied to the act in a way that the man never could be. For him, no matter where or who he engages in sex with, he is guaranteed personal gratification nine-and-a-half times out of ten. For us, it has to be the right time, place, mood, temperature or the right amount of intoxication (I purposely left out the right man because let’s not give them more importance than they already have) and then may be, luck upon luck, we might have the elusive Big O. That must be it. Being the cleverer sex, we don’t give into our desires unless it’s worth it and guarantees full satisfaction. Else, money back!    

Send your love/sex queries to Koël Purië at:
koel@dnaindia.net